Dean's lone gig
by MarenMary93
Summary: Sam and Dean went on seperate hunts, Dean is hurt. What will happend when Sam meets up with him in the motel where Dean's staying? Hurt!/limp!Dean ONE SHOT! T cause of language and wounds...


**Dean and Sam went on seperate hunts. Dean had an incident **

During the past few days, Deans life had been through so many changes that the half would have been enough… Right now he sat relaxed in a motel chair. Then he started thinking about the chair. Old, rugged and been through the most, just like himself. His thoughts wandered over to his own state of condition. Old, rugged and been through the most. All though many may say that 27 years of age, is no age for a healthy man. He knew… But his body had more scares than most men, except for hunters. All right, he had more scares than many hunters twice his age, his scaly had been through more damage than the most hunters his age, last big injury had occurred last night. He leaned his head back at the support, while his left hand slowly wandered down his leg. When it reached his lower thigh he gasped, even the mildest touch near his knee felt like somebody pounded it with a sledgehammer. It was a good thing that Sam was on a hunt of his own, two states west. He did not want Sam to see him like this, and it was a risky gig, Sam could have gotten hurt, killed even. A shiver went down his spine as he thought of his little brother, dead.

The doorbell rang, it shocked him out of his deep thoughts, making him twist just the slightest. This time it was cuss words that escaped his lips. He then got on his feet (foot) and hobbled over to the white door, with his own blood smeared across, he had not bothered by cleaning it off yet. The bell rang once more, before Dean reached the door. By old routines he checked the lunette. WTF, Sammy? His kid brother stood on the opposite side of the door, wringing his hands in the cold. He hobbled over to the fridge, and got out the beer he had mixed with holy, hobbled back to the door and winced "just the slightest" as his left foot touched the ground below him once.

"Who is it?" he asked by pure reflex, even though he already had checked the lunette. He felt stupid for asking, but his brother would sure know.

"It's me Dean… You know very well who I am…" Sam paused before he continued. "may I come in? It's freezing out here!"

Dean unbolted the door, and hobbled away from the doors path. When Sam came in he saw his older brother leaned relaxed up on the kitchenette counter. Gun in one hand, beer in the other and a spare beer for Sam by his side… Sam grabbed the beer and pressed it against his lips, swallowing the cool moisture with great gratitude. "Thanks man, I needed one." Sam blinked at his brother. Dean put away the gun, and cracked his beer open, the second after, he remembered that booze and pain meds don't mix. He sighed, before he turned his face towards Sam. "Want one more? I think I'll stick to the coffee tonight…" Dean stretched his right hand containing the beer over to Sam, whom took the new beer offered. He took a sip, before he asked after the bathroom. Which Dean willingly pointed out. This was his chance to clean up the blood mess without Sam noticing it. When Sam closed the bathroom door, Dean hurried as he hobbled over to the sink and tapped some water, and hitched a towel. Then he hurried over to the door, took the moist towel and started cleaning off the door. He finished and threw the now rosy red towel into the sink. Then he hobbled quickly back to the chair. Then cussed silently while he converted it to a recliner. Seconds after Sam locked up the door to the restroom, and strolled over to the other chair.

"How did the gig go?" Dean asked with a curious voice, and an expression that matched. Sam looked over at his brother who laid in the recliner beside him, not relaxed at all… "Great, it was a very, very easy job actually. Just the regular salt'n'burn…" he explained calmly, before he shifted his weight over to the elbow closest to his older brother, and asked with a thoughtful tone. "What has your week been like?" Dean felt his brothers eyes burning their way through to his brain, he just couldn't lie to those puppy eyes, he never could.

He sighed, then he leaned over at his right shoulder and stared his younger sibling straight into the eyes. "like a living hell, with some extremely bright sides." He paused. "Shit I'm supposed to meet that bright side tomorrow!" Sam nearly laughed at his brothers exclamation. And by that he figured out that his brother most likely wasn't in a condition to meet "a bright side" tomorrow. He also concluded that the mentioned bright side was a chick. "Well, why has it been a living hell? What has happened the past few days? How did the hunt go?" Sam chose not to show that he knew his brother was hurt, but he knew. "This week has basically just gone wrong in every possible way…" Dean started to think back at the week that had passed.


End file.
